Quotes About Consequences

exclaimed, O foolish creatures that we are, for the sake of a little pleasure we have destroyed ourselves.

they were, they soon began to think they were not getting rich fast enough, and, imagining the bird must be made of gold inside, they decided to kill it in order to secure the

When you hit back make sure you have got the right man.

False confidence often leads to disaster.

One winter a Farmer found a Viper frozen and numb with cold, and out of pity picked it up and placed it in his bosom. The Viper was no sooner revived by the warmth than it turned upon its benefactor and inflicted a fatal bite upon him; and as the poor man lay dying, he cried, "I have only got what I deserved, for taking compassion on so villainous a creature." Kindness is thrown away upon the evil.

The Flea, terrified, whimpered in a weak little voice, "Oh, sir! pray let me go; don't kill me! I am such a little thing that I can't do you much harm." But the Man laughed and said, "I am going to kill you now, at once: whatever is bad has got to be destroyed, no matter how slight the harm it does." Do not waste your pity on a scamp.

Every gesture of retribution carries in it the risk of escalation. It is not an insignificant possibility that the morally right may result in the morally wrong.

Evil cannot be punished, but it is self-destructive.

A world where a majority had imbibed the lessons implicit within tragic art would be one in which the consequences of our failures would necessarily cease to weigh upon us so heavily.

An idealism previously directed at gods and spirits has been rerouted towards human subjects – an ostensibly generous gesture nevertheless freighted with forbidding and brittle consequences, since it is no simple thing for any human being to honour over a lifetime the perfections he or she might have hinted at to an imaginative observer in the street, the office or the adjoining aeroplane seat.

He asks her to marry him because it feels like an extremely dangerous thing to do: if the marriage were to fail, it would ruin both their lives.

Tragedies remind us how badly we need to keep controlling ourselves by showing us what happens when people don

Never be prime minister at the start of a war, Nessie [..] The man that lead you into it isn't the one to lead you out of it.

She poked and jabbed until it bled, but felt no pain; it might as well have been someone else's flesh, someone else's body. She looked up at the pali, at the trail she had ascended years before, and cursed herself for a fool. She could have stayed topside, traveled, loved, married, lived! But she came back, damn it. She thought of all she'd given up in that moment, places she couldn't imagine and would never know, and she wept. Night fell on her sorrows.

They have been trapped by their own inventiveness and audacity. And they must pay with their lives.

The Rudderless World is not shaped by vague metaphysical Forces. It is not God who kills the Children. Not Fate that butchers them or Destiny that feeds them to the Dogs. ... It´s us. Only us.

Adrian Veidt: I did the right thing, didn't I? It all worked out in the end. Dr. Manhattan: 'In the end'? Nothing ends, Adrian. Nothing ever ends.

Jon, wait before leave... I did the right thing didn't I? It all worked out in the end. 'In the end'? Nothing ends Adrian. Nothing ever ends. Jon? Wait! What do you mean by ...

Don't tell me they didn't have a choice. Now the whole world stands on the brink, staring down into bloody hell, all those liberals and intellectuals and smooth-talkers... and all of a sudden, nobody can think of anything to say.

Aprovechados, impostores, mentirosos, lunáticos... esos han sido los que han tomado las decisiones. Así de sencillo. Pero, ¿quién los eligió? ¡Tú! ¡Tú les buscaste! ¡Tú les nombraste! ¡Tú les diste el poder de decidir por ti! Admito que cualquiera puede equivocarse una vez, pero cometer los mismos errores fatales siglo tras siglo me parece un tanto deliberado.

Without me, things would have been different. If the fat man hadn't crushed the watch, if I hadn't left it in the test chamber. . . Am I to blame, then? Or the fat man? Or my father, for choosing my career? Which of us is responsible? Who makes the world?

It's not God that kills the children. Not fate that butchers them or destiny that feeds them to the dogs. It's us. Only us.

The wages of sin are death, but the hours are good and the perks are fantastic.

What broke in a man when he could bring himself to kill another?